Peculiarities of Parenting
by Retired 5.01.2012
Summary: Sequel to "When In Doubt": Though it seems that things have settled down, there is trouble lurking in paradise. Mainly Ratchet and OC-centric.
1. Prologue

And now, for the sequel to "When In Doubt". The outline for this story has fought me tooth and nail, but I've finally managed to get this underway.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers. I only own my OCs and medical procedures. Any and all people in this work of fiction are figments of my over-active imagination. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional and unfortunate.

Now, in the order that I borrowed: Dancers and their trade belong to **Okami-Chan**, while the idea of femme-in-hiding was borrowed from **P.A.W.07. Litahatchee** owns the concept of carrying. And finally, **LittleMewLugia** is the owner of the sub-adult stage of development.

Here's a giant thank-you to my friends over on DeviantArt for encouraging me to write this. :)

* * *

**Personal Journal: Optimus Prime**

**Stardate: 13764.45**

**Purpose: Update**

_It has only been twenty five orns since I have last put my thoughts into words, but it feels as though it has been a dozen vorns. Things have changed faster now than when I became Prime those eons ago, so I must start at the very beginning in order for things to make sense.  
_

_After the trial, it felt like things around had settled down to a degree, but I should have known better than to think that things were going to run smoothly. How wrong I was! Nightshade and Light Streak both fell ill about an orn after the trial, and for a few hours, we thought we were going to lose little Streak once more. Moonracer had the brilliant idea to set up a semi-permanent link between Nightshade and Streak – they had to wait for a few more orns before they could remove the sparkling from her hold again, but the constant flow of energon and minerals between mother and child saved his life. He is now relatively healthy and entirely happy. Nightshade calls him her "Little Leech Monster" because of his constant need for energon and minerals. He seems to have inherited his father's voracious appetite. I must admit I am very curious now – what else has Streak inherited from his father? Perhaps his charm. Though Streak is very uncomfortable around strange mechs, the little one will not hesitate to charm his way into a femme's arms if his mother is unavailable.  
_

_Nightshade has recovered almost fully. I think there may be trouble in paradise, however. She and Ratchet are fighting, even though they try to hide it from us. Elita and I still discovering things about one another, even though we have been bonded for millennia. They are sure to have a difficult time adjusting to sharing one spark between them. I have attempted to speak to Ratchet on the mechanics of a bond – imagine that! Me, Optimus Prime, lecturing the fabled Ratchet in the ways of love! – and he seems to understand the difficulties of having a bondmate. Nightshade needs more time. All I can say is that I hope that Ratchet has the patience to guide Nightshade through this – after all, she was still adjusting to life as his mate when she conceived little Streak. It will be difficult for her to learn to be both a mate and mother at the same time._

_Ironhide and Chromia still haven't announced their news to the base. They always were the best at procrastinating. I believe they are planning to do it soon. Chromia will reach the 35 orn in six orns, and then it will be safe for Ratchet to deliver the sparkling. We are all very excited at the birth of a second sparkling, even if the little one is - as Chromia said - using the inside of her carrying tank as a 'demolition field'. As for presenting the news to the rest of the base, Chromia had the idea to have the sparkling and show it off when it was born, but Ironhide disapproved. He claimed that everyone else would 'keel over from spark-attack' if they did. I am not certain what Ironhide meant by 'spark-attack', though I assume it may be a play on the human term 'heart attack'. Ironhide is even more excited about the sparkling than Chromia is. I would have never guessed that Ironhide would want to be a father, especially with what happened to his creators. All I will say is that any sparkling under his care will be well cared for and protected. Ratchet has often expressed his amusement at how well Ironhide and Light Streak get along.  
_

_We also learned some very good news of Ember and Evergreen – their sparks are maturing much faster than that of a sparkling created by a pair of Cybertronians. They will be ready for their subadult frames within the decade. Primus, they are maturing so quickly. That also brings up the issue of finding the girls a permanent home, where they can be raised by a mother and a father, but I won't think of that quite yet. The girls love all of their caretakers, so I am not certain which set of mates will step forward to adopt them._

_Speaking of adoption, Elita and I are thinking of adopting. Elita has given up so much of her past life in order to remain my bondmate, including her desire to create life. Now that we are ushering in a new peaceful era, she wants to give me what the Council demanded from her those eons ago. I know she is disappointed that we will not be able to create a sparkling, but she knows that our duties come before our desires. I feel shame in my spark for asking her to start a family with me and then taking that option from her, but we do not have the time to carry and rear a sparkling from birth. So, we have asked Nightshade and Epsilon to help us with the adoption process. Both femmes are ecstatic to know that Elita is finally going to have her chance to be a mother. Nightshade has administered a compatibility test to figure out which youngling will best be able to acclimate to life as our child. I must keep a stopper on my hopes, however. Not all of the younglings are mature enough to begin training as diplomat, warrior, and leader immediately upon their upgrade into sub-adults.  
_

_All of the little younglings are progressing so quickly. It feels like we were teaching them their letters and numbers only hours ago. Ratchet has three apprentices-in-training in the nursery. Rose, Dahlia, and Roadliner all wish to become medics. Rose already knows that she wants to specialize in sparkling-care, while Dahlia and Roadliner want to be surgeons. It is spark warming to walk into the medical bay and see Ratchet teaching once more. It has been far too long since he has taken in apprentices. Wheeljack has two younglings to look after in the lab, so I hope that their presences will cut down on the number of accidental explosions. _

_Wait a breem. I will recant my statement – I hope their presences will cut down on ALL explosions, both accidental AND intentional._

_Red Alert and Barricade are training one little femme to help with security. Chromia, Ironhide, Firestar, and Bumblebee are training ten of the remaining younglings to be warriors first in their programming. My spark still clenches when I think of our vulnerable younglings learning to fight, but we are all warriors on this base. We must all learn to fight, and those little ones will be the ones to protect our newest additions. Jazz, Prowl, and Blaster each have a youngling learning their trade. I wish the little mech following Prowl the best of luck. Prowl's lectures and reports always were the most detailed, for lack of better (and polite) terminology._

_The last three wish to work as administrators, so there are a number of mechs and femmes training them. We are all still waiting for Ember and Evergreen to select a profession, though I suspect that they wish to become dancers like Nightshade. Even if she did agree to take them on, she wouldn't have time to train them properly. She would have to stop working in the nursery or in the medical bay, and I know Nightshade well enough to say that she would never willingly quit either job. Ratchet had enough trouble accepting that Nightshade wanted to work full time after they bonded, so he (as Jazz so eloquently stated) "had kittens" when Nightshade put herself back on the work roster after recovering from Streak's birth. I wonder how he will react when he finds out that Nightshade is going to help tutor the girls on Saturday mornings.  
_

_I still must give my blessings to Wheeljack and Firestar for finally consummating their bond, though I would have preferred them to actually court before leaping into a bond. They will have a rough time ahead of them. Most normal Cybertronians court for vorns before bonding, even if they are spark-mates. Though, I should not be surprised. I have known them both long enough to know that neither Wheeljack nor Firestar ever did do anything by halves. They simply are the best at surprising us all._

_I am slightly fearful, however. Any sparkling created by that pair would have an inclination for causing mayhem and explosions._

_Mirage and Moonracer, for some strange reason, cannot consummate their bond. We have checked and rechecked their spark measurements. They are exact matches to one another, but their bonding protocols will not start. I have Ratchet and Wheeljack working on their little dilemma in their spare time. I would love nothing more for Moonracer and Mirage to bond. She seems to be the only one capable of keeping his arrogance and temper in check._

_Reelections for the Presidential candidacy are in two mere stellar cycles. Our presence still has not been reported to the people of the world, but there have been reports of 'giant alien robots shooting statues' in nearby recreation areas. I might have to raise my concerns with Ironhide and Chromia. Rule Number 773 states that 'all Cybertronians must keep amorous activities to the confinement of the base'. I still am finding it difficult to block all memory files from the gathering in July. I only hope that William Lennox has been able to purge his memory of that event._

_We are scheduled to meet in Brussels sometime within the next year in order to reveal ourselves to the NATO Permanent Representatives. After that, we will finish in Rome to meet with the Russian and English Prime ministers. We will be discussing our state of sovereignty within the United States. I do not know how the current President will take our intents, but I do not wish to break ties over a misunderstanding. I will have to tread very carefully in order to keep the President on our side until reelections._

_ I am considering a move to Mars where we will be able to populate the entire planet without repercussions, but I fear backlash from the various other governments. For now, I will remain silent. Perhaps in a vorn or two, I will be able to broach the subject with the future leader. I may decide to mask my efforts as a scientific exploration. The humans have wanted to visit Mars to collect samples, so we might be able to send a scouting team along with them._

_I loathe the idea of subterfuge, but I must keep my people safe._

_I must go. The younglings are here on their daily visit to alleviate my 'boredom' in dealing with 'icky paperwork and boring talks', as Starlight calls it._

_Optimus Prime out._

_

* * *

_

All information regarding NATO can be found on the actualy NATO website and Wikipedia.

This is also crossposted to my DeviantArt page. :)


	2. Rainy Days and Revelations

There are no **warnings** for this chapter unless you don't like sparkling fluffiness.

This fic will be about the 'bots, not the humans.

Various disclaimers: I do not own Hermes, Jello, Blackberry, Transformers, or any recognizable/inferred brands. I am merely playing with them; I will clean them and return them to their proper boxes when I am finished. However, I do own my OCs and medical procedure descriptions. Ask before you take and I'll be more than happy to share. This sandbox is big enough for everyone in the Transformers fandom.

**P.A.W.07** let me borrow her idea of a femme-in-hiding from her story Promise Not to Tell.

**Okami-Chan** let me borrow her idea of dancers from her story Rhythm and Hues.

**Litahatchee** let me borrow her concept of carrying from her story Night Fire.

**LittleMewLugia** let me borrow her term "sub-adult" as it refers to a juvenile between the youngling and adult stages. I don't know the exact age bracket that **LittleMewLugia** uses in her stories, so I took the liberty of making up a set for this story. In human years, it would be anywhere from 12 to 17 – young enough to act like a child, but old enough to definitely know better.

The lovely, lovely **Autumn_Sparrow** (a.k.a. **VermilionBird**) has two great fics Finding Salvation and Holding onto the Future, the both of which are my inspiration for the first half of this chapter. If I could give this groovy lady a hug, I totally would. She wrote the scene where the Cybertronians were revealed to the world so perfectly, and I can only hope to make mine somewhat intelligible.

**Phoenix13** is the funniest author on this site and I can't help but to fawn over her OC sparklings, Safire and Sabre, from her story Scent of the Future – a brilliant read, by the way, if you want some cute sparkling action. She is also author of two of my personal favorite crackalicious stories. They are Waiting and Male is as Male Does. XD

I've also re-read **Ryagelle's** entire Twinning the Hatchet series. It's beautifully written and tugs the right heartstrings, so I definitely recommend it if you're in the mood for some angst and romance. I really ought to stop lurking and finally review.

I've been angsting over this chapter for the past three or four months, but I'm going to post it. I've combed through it at least a dozen times. If you see any mistakes, PLEASE tell me. I hate catching boo-boos ten chapters later. I'm also going to be doing a little bit of rearranging to the time line. It won't be a major change to the events, but I have to make a few tiny tweaks for things to fall into place properly.

And that concludes this long and tedious Author's Note.

P.S. – fandom, we really need some well written Optimus x Elita and Ironhide x Chromia love. ;)

* * *

_If there is something to pardon in everything, there is also something to condemn._  
Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Ex-Secretary of Defense Keller, now Official Head Liaison of Alien Cultural and Economic Affairs, straightened his silken cranberry-colored Hermés tie, giving himself another glance in the floor length mirror nervously. Today was the day that the President of the United States was going to announce the presence of their 'guests' to the world. He had some reservations regarding the Cybertronians and their status on Earth, but they were minuscule.

John thought of himself as a good man. He truly, with all of his heart and soul, wished for the Cybertronians to be accepted on Earth as friends of humankind. He wanted peace, prosperity, and happiness for every being, even if he was sure that the pursuit would be quite like trying to nail Jello to a tree. He knew that there were certain politicians and figures of authority that would stop at nothing to gain information from the Cybertronians to sell on the black market. He sighed quietly, his shoulders drooping. The man who stared back at him from the mirror looked tired and ready for retirement. No powder, surgical procedure, or touch-up expert could disguise the weariness in the depths of his eyes.

Steeling himself for a long day of arguments and politics, he straightened his belt and brushed bits of lint from his charcoal suit before picking up a thick stack of manila folders. He hesitated for a moment, brushing his fingers over the embossed eagle on the front of the topmost folder.

The American symbol. One of freedom, liberty, integrity, and honor.

He scoffed to himself as he walked out of the hotel room – freedom and liberty indeed. The President had his own agenda regarding the Cybertronians. They had weapons, knowledge, and a strange form of money. Could he tax it? The President didn't know if he could, or even if their strange chips would be worth anything, but he was going to try. Two Secret Service agents flanked him as they strode down the plush carpet in the hallway.

There was a loud crash, an indignant squawk, and an awkward apology. Keller rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. He watched as the man helped the bellboy pick up the luggage that had knocked off of the trolley. The man had thick, wavy, brown hair which never looked tidy, no matter how many times it was brushed, styled, or cut. He had bright green eyes, and an air of awkward intelligence about him. The man expertly dodged a maid pushing a cleaning cart as he juggled his PDA, a cardboard carrier with two steaming paper cups of coffee, and a monolithic pile of folders.

"Mr. Keller," he said respectfully, handing him a portion of the folders, "we are ready to depart. Autobot Prowl will be our escort to the White House. He already has the proper security clearances."

'Good," Keller said, thumbing through the topmost report, "where is Optimus?"

"He and his delegation have already been transported to Anacostia," Jeffrey said, "and the President is en route via helicopter." Keller nodded and led the way into the elevator. The two Secret Service agents remained glued to their sides, their silent shadows.

"Has Prime Minister Bartlett arrived?" Keller asked. Jeffrey shook his head.

"There was a mix-up at BWI – one of the traffic controllers sent them down the wrong runway. Nearly ended up at the far south end before someone spoke up. British Secret Service was in fits for about an hour before we managed to get everything under control," Jeffrey said, holding the door open for Keller. The sky was grey, a light drizzle creating a misty halo around passing cars. Their limousine pulled up in front of the emerald awning just as they stepped out of the hotel. Prowl followed closely behind. When Keller was in range, he greeted the man with a subtle flash of his headlights. Keller nodded slightly to the 'driver', raising his hand in greeting.

One of the agents held the limousine door open. Both men hurriedly entered the car to avoid the icy drizzle.

"And Prime Minister Satou?" Keller asked, seating himself in the plush leather seat. Jeffery scrolled through his Blackberry, using his thumb to brush away the raindrops on the screen.

"She is en route," Jeffrey said, "Lefevres and Montesquieu have already arrived." Keller nodded. "And here is your coffee, sir. Black, one packet of real cane sugar, and a splash of cream."

"Santiago is not coming, correct?"

"No. After last week's refusal, he wants nothing to do with 'greedy, arrogant Americans'," Jeffrey said cheerfully, complete with air quotation marks. Keller rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. Jeffrey straightened the crooked glasses that had been, up until that point, rapidly sliding down the bridge of his nose.

"He still hasn't done anything?" Keller asked, shaking his head in disbelief. Jeffrey shook his head, still as cheerful as before. The sweet smell of pumpkin wafted out of Jeffrey's cup. Keller eyed it.

"I got a pumpkin latte. Would you like some?" he asked. Keller shook his head.

"Your loss, sir. He says there is no way that he can control the trafficking without extra money," Jeffrey said, returning his phone to his pocket. Keller scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"What happened to the twenty million we sent him three weeks ago?" Keller asked, making a slight face.

"President Santiago says that he spent most of it on vaccines and disease awareness," Jeffrey said, "I've already petitioned for an audit on where our loans went before we send him any more money."

"That's good," Keller said, turning his gaze back to the window. The car slowed to a crawl when they hit early morning D.C. traffic. Keller and his assistant sat in companionable silence for another half-hour, or until they pulled up to a very tall stone wall. They stopped at the entrance of a guard shack.

A young man in a black rain coat hurried forward, tipping the brim of his cap back. His partner and her dog followed at his heels.

"Identification, sir," he said to the driver. The driver rolled down the windows slightly so that Keller could show the man his card. He stared at it for a moment, snapping an instant salute when he saw the inconspicuous symbol just underneath the American flag.

"Sir, your guests have already arrived, safe and sound," he said evenly and politely, motioning for the young woman to finish her work. She led the German Shepherd around both military vehicles before leading him to Prowl. The dog let out a quiet woof, his ears perking straight up in the ear. His tail began to wag happily. He let out a short, playful bark as he began to pull on his leash.

"Alexander," the young woman commanded softly, gently pulling on the leash, "heel, boy." The dog obeyed, but his intelligent brown eyes remained trained on Prowl's grille.

"Sir, please head straight forward until the third street. Take a left and continue to hangar G-6. From there, you will be escorted to your destination," he said. The driver nodded.

"Take care, and stay dry," he responded. Both officers saluted them as the car pulled away. Keller nursed the remnants of his lukewarm coffee as the driver slowly wound through the base. It was a relatively short drive to the hangar. Keller flipped through the papers of the folder, sighing in irritation as he skimmed over the numbers.

"Take them to an auditor," he said dryly, "I majored in English, but even I can tell that they aren't adding up." Jeffrey nodded immediately and whisked the papers into another unmarked folder. Keller rolled his eyes. The President had, once again, called for another cut in the budget for NEST operations and for the Autobots. If they lost anymore of their budget, they would have to sleep in tents.

"We're here, sir," Jeffrey said seriously, buckling the clasp on the briefcase wedged in the seat pocket. Keller glanced out of the rain-streaked window, the side of his mouth quirking up as he took in the large tent set up behind a barricade. Prowl broke off from their congregation and drove over to a rather intimidating black Saleen Mustang. Keller felt like ice cubes had trickled down his spine. Even though Optimus had vouched for the defectors, he could not bring himself to trust them to any great extent.

The limousine rolled to a gentle stop. The large stage in front of the civilian area was covered by a tall white tent. The sides had been hastily sealed off with clear plastic and orange clamps. With a sigh, Keller stepped out of the warm interior of the vehicle and underneath the large, royal blue umbrella held up by a soldier. He gave the soldier a thankful nod. His assistant was hard pressed to follow behind them to the dry interior of the tent.

The President was already within, shuffling through a stack of note cards as he muttered to himself. A second soldier, a woman, ushered Keller to his seat and gave him a program. He had barely sat down before the President stepped up to the podium. There was a dizzying array of flashes of light as the cameras went off. Keller felt uncharacteristically nauseated. His assistant noticed his discomfort and slipped him an encouraging smile.

"Today marks a pivotal point in our history," President Anderson began, giving the cameras his patented, charismatic smile, "we are on the cusp of global peace and co-operation…"

Keller managed to keep from rolling his eyes only because of the dozens of cameras aimed in their direction. President Anderson spent a few minutes talking about recent technological and medical advances, mentioning a brief note about a nearby galaxy that had been discovered, and again, the chance for peace and prosperity. The speech flowed for ten minutes more before the man straightened up. There was a ripple across the risers as the reporters and civilians leaned forward in breathless anticipation.

"…our knowledge of this universe is imperfect and incomplete, backwards and primitive. We have among us those with the capability to guide us, to assist us, and to teach us about the infinite expanse of stars," President Anderson said, his voice rolling smoothly, "we now have the technology to see beyond what we previously thought was the limit of our capabilities. We have the technology to save and to improve the lives of billions. Today marks the turning of the page in our history. Sixteen years ago, at the very beginning of my father's term, there was an attack on Mission City in Nevada. We lost our brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers. I am here to set the record straight."

He paused dramatically.

"The attacks on Mission City were not an act of terrorism. They were an act of war."

Dramatic gasps could be heard from the white tents opposite the podium.

"They were an act of war, from an enemy far from the shores of the United States of America. They were from an enemy we could not have defeated ourselves. My fellow Americans, please join me in officially welcoming the leader of the Cybertronian race, Optimus Prime."

The massive flame-covered semi rolled out from underneath the tent, flanked by a massive black Topkick and a silver Pontiac Solstice. Optimus was the first to transform. He rose gracefully, pieces shifting and sliding around, soft metallic thumps accompanied by gentle hydraulic hisses. In mere moments, Optimus, Ironhide, and Jazz were standing before the cameras. Several of their comrades remained hidden behind them. Keller smiled when he saw that Optimus had brought his ladylove, Elita One. She gave him a small smile in return before turning her attention forward. Ironhide looked as ominous as ever, his optics bright blue contrasting his thick, black armor and the grey clouds above. Jazz looked warm and completely at ease, maybe even eager to talk to the new humans. Keller leaned over slightly. He could just make out Prowl and Barricade standing at attention behind Optimus.

"People of Earth, I am Optimus Prime. My people and I are grateful for your welcome," he said warmly, smiling into the cameras. The reactions were predictable. Most of the military officials managed to keep their exclamations of surprise to themselves. Some of the journalists began to clamor for introductions and interviews. One particularly paunchy man had fallen to his knees to pray. A woman walked back to her vehicle, her camera man in tow. Amidst the chaos, Keller could see angry faces as the arguing began.

"Well," Jeffrey said, "that was a pretty good start. At least no one ran away screaming." He was silenced by a nasty glare from the Secretary of Agriculture.

Optimus took three steps forward and carefully knelt beside the President. He held one large finger out for a customary 'handshake'.

"Thank you, President Smith," Optimus said, sounding quite sincere. The flashes from the cameras were even brighter than before.

For a moment in time, John allowed himself to believe that his large, metallic companions were going to be accepted as their allies and not as political tools.

* * *

_...Two Days Later…_

There was silence.

The fugitive wormed his way out from underneath the table, brushing the occasional dust bunny out of his way. He leaned forward, covering his mouth when a pair of white legs strode past his hiding spot. Oh, that had been too close. Daddy was on the prowl for him. It was time for a bath, and Streak hated bath time with him. Momma always went into the bath with him and played with the bubbles. Sometimes she even sang him little songs, but Poppa always put him in the sink.

No songs, no cuddling, and no playing. Poppa was very strict, especially when came time for a bath or nap.

Streak peered out from underneath the table. The coast was clear. Poppa was nowhere to be seen, so he began to crawl across the few yards of open space that stretched between the table and the berth. After a few tense astroseconds, he reached the edge of the berth. He peeked up. It was too high for him to climb, so he could not take refuge in the cushions today. He would have to make do with his regular hiding spot underneath the berth.

Light Streak dragged Commander Chomper behind him, squeaking in frustration when the large purple beaver was caught between two storage crates. Momma must have rearranged her things last night. Light Streak pushed against the box, managing to scoot it over a few millimeters. The beaver slid through easily. Light Streak crawled to the far wall and plunked down on the floor.

Once in the hidden space between the boxes, he arranged his most trusted advisers. Commander Chomper took the seat of honor to his right, followed by Elfie the elephant, 'Hide the armadillo, and a large shapeless parrot he had yet to name. He began to squeak out orders – Commander Chomper had first watch, while Elfie would take over communications. Ironhide would check the supply of rubber bands and paperclips. Streak tipped over Poppa's old energon cube and began to sort the treasures he had both found and "borrowed".

Momma had been cleaning her storage room out and had left a large box of pretty, shiny, and sparkly things out on the floor. Streak promptly commandeered two of momma's bracelets, three star burst shaped pendants, and one of her scarves. He nuzzled the scarf for a moment, chirping quietly. He missed his momma terribly. When was she coming home?

Then he sorted through the things Poppa had dropped on the floor while working. Nuts and bolts. Bits of wire. A battery. He took out a battery and one shiny bolt. Maybe he would barter his way out of Time Out when Poppa found him. He reached out to his father timidly through their bond. Poppa responded with love, but Streak knew he was pushing his luck by hiding, so he began to crawl out from underneath the berth. He dragged Commander Chomper behind him, squeaking for Ironhide to take command while he was away.

He peered around and squeaked at Commander Chomper. The coast was clear.

Light Streak began to crawl for the door with Commander Chomper dragging close behind. Then a shadow fell over them. Streak tensed, glancing up slowly. There, in all of his magnificent white-and-red glory, stood his father. And he looked irritated. Streak gave his father a warm flood of sheepish love, wondering what happened next. He teamed the love with the most pitiful "please don't put me in time out" look he could muster up.

Poppa arched an optic ridge, his frown deepening slightly.

Bolts. Poppa was impervious to The Look. It Light Streak's patented pout, one that could make even the toughest femme coo down at him in adoration. Streak intensified his pout, letting his lower lip tremble slightly. Then he felt a tiny tendril of pride when Poppa sighed. The mild irritation in their bond disappeared and was replaced with tender love. Triumph!

"There you are, my naughty sparkling," Ratchet said, bending over with a hiss of hydraulics. He picked Streak up and cuddled him against his chest plates. "What were you doing underneath the berth, little one?"

Streak chirped and pointed down at Commander Chomper. How else would they be able to keep tabs on the Twins? Ratchet chuckled quietly, breaking Streak from his devious plans to retaliate against the twins. One that involved those paperclips and rubber bands, and maybe some glitter if he could manage to swipe it from the arts and crafts bins in the nursery.

"Ah, yes," Ratchet said, bending down to pick up the purple beaver, "were you playing hide and seek?" Streak nodded solemnly. Eh, what poppa didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"I see," Ratchet said, "it's time for a quick bath, Streak. Momma won't be happy if she comes home and finds you covered in dust. We both have business to take care of tonight, so you get to visit Red and Inferno." To prove his point, Ratchet plucked a bit of fluff off of the top of Streak's head. Streak trilled. Who cared about a bit of dust? He could wipe down with a clean rag and he would be just as shiny as he would be if he had taken a bath.

"Your mother likes it when you are very shiny and clean," Ratchet continued, talking to his sparkling as he walked into the bathing area. He headed straight for the sink. Streak wailed and shook his head, clinging to his father when he heard the water splashing in the deep basin.

"Streak," Ratchet said patiently, "you know it is time for your bath. Crying won't solve anything, sweetspark." Streak shook his head and clung even more tightly to Ratchet's grill guard, worming his way past the bars and into the narrow gap directly behind. Ratchet rubbed his forehead gently.

"Come on out of there, Light Streak," Ratchet said firmly, "you and I both have rules to follow." Streak wailed unhappily, shaking his head. Then he pointed at the shower. Ratchet paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, as he stared down at the sink.

"What is it, Streak? Are you afraid of the sink?" Ratchet asked kindly, turning the tap off. Streak shook his head hard and pointed at the shower again. Come on. Everyone praised his father's intelligence; why couldn't he see that he wanted a shower?

"You want to take a shower?" Streak nodded vigorously. Yes! They were finally getting somewhere! Streak wriggled out of the space between Ratchet's grill guard and his chest, scrambling to cling to his arm. Once within the shower, Streak held the bolt up and began to babble out the terms of the trade. One shower with poppa in exchange for one very shiny bolt.

"Is this for me, Streak?" Ratchet asked, smiling down at Streak. He nodded again, chirping eagerly. Ratchet flipped on the switch, a smile blossoming across his face when Streak began to trill happily. The warm water coursed over their frames. Streak began to splash the bubbles, shrieking in joy when they began to drift away on the warm thermals. Ratchet smiled, carefully rubbing Streak's tiny frame clean with a soft rag. Ratchet turned his face up into the water, letting it wash away the tension in his frame. Now he knew why Streak pitched a fit every single time he tried to give him a bath. Streak only wanted company.

Once both mechs were squeaky clean and dry, Ratchet carried Streak into the nursery.

"Time for a nap, little one," Ratchet murmured, cradling the clean and sleepy sparkling to his chest. Light Streak was immediately awake. He shook his head, worming his hands around Ratchet's grill guard. He began to cry when Ratchet tried to pry him from his chest. He wailed again – he wanted to stay with poppa, where he would be nice and warm and safe until momma could come home and put him in her chest compartment.

"Come now," Ratchet said patiently, "let go. If you don't have your nap now, you'll be cranky when momma comes home." Streak shook his head, fat tears rolling down the sides of his face. Ratchet loosened his grip on Streak for a brief moment, and that was all it took for the little sparkling to zip down his chest and to the floor. Streak began to crawl away as quickly as he possibly could.

"Light Streak," Ratchet said, his voice starting to sound a little growly, as he followed the crawling sparkling to his bedroom. His irritation died away when he saw Streak trying to climb onto the berth. Well, slag. Ratchet couldn't ever stay irritated with Streak, especially when he was begging for his attention.

"Do you want to take a nap with me?" Ratchet asked kindly. Streak nodded, wiping the tears on his face plate away before holding his hands up. Ratchet picked Streak up, carefully cradling the little mech in his hands.

"Very well," Ratchet said, sitting down on the edge of the berth. Then he reclined against a thick cushion, smiling when Streak curled up into a little ball on his chest plates. The sparkling went into recharge almost immediately afterward, his entire tiny body purring with delight. Ratchet stroked his sparkling's back gently with his fingertips as he began to run through the day's reports.

He didn't know when he had managed to fall into recharge, but he came online to Nightshade quietly arranging her body against his. She gave him a kiss before snuggling into his side, tucking her body underneath his arm as she leaned his head against his shoulder. Her hand joined his on his chest plates. Streak began to stir when he sensed his mother was nearby. His optics brightened and he began to trill when he saw her. Streak crawled over to her, giving forth a burst of delighted clicks and whistles when she picked him up and held him in the air. He wriggled his arms and legs, giggling in joy.

"Why hello," Nightshade cooed, "how are my two favorite mechs in the entire solar system?"

"Solar system?" Ratchet asked, feigning horror, "should I be worried?" Nightshade giggled girlishly.

"How about 'universe' instead?" she asked. Ratchet nodded, pleased, and turned onto his side, resting his arm over her like a protective cocoon as Nightshade held Streak against her chest plates. The sparkling was mostly quiet, occasionally letting out a content little chirp of happiness.

"He missed you today," Ratchet murmured, rubbing tiny circles against her armor. Nightshade cooed at her sparkling.

"Is that right, Streak? Did you miss me? I missed you terribly," she said, smiling when he gave a quiet cheep. Of course he missed his momma! He loved spending time with her and poppa at the same time. There was nowhere else in the world he would ever want to be. He snuggled into her neck for a few more moments before patting her chest plates.

"Oh? Are you tired, Streak?" Nightshade said gently, "you'll need to take another nap before tonight." He nodded and patted the seam again. She acquiesced, letting one chest plate slide to the side so that her little sparkling could take shelter. Then she shut her plating, smiling when he immediately uploaded into her systems and began to raid the stash of energon her systems had set aside for him. Once he had gorged himself on the sweet fuel, he curled up into a tiny ball, occasionally reaching to his creators as he amused himself with images from the day.

"He's refueling again," she murmured, tossing an arm around Ratchet's waist.

"He's growing so quickly," Ratchet responded softly, "I do believe that he is beginning to process our speech. He understood me today when I asked him questions today, love. He responded by nodding or shaking his head. He's maturing so quickly." Ratchet shook his head slightly, wondering where time had gone. Nightshade shifted in his arms, placing one gentle hand on his chest plates.

"He's a genius," Nightshade cooed, "just like his father." Ratchet snorted inelegantly, but did not protest the compliment. They lay together in blissful silence for a few minutes. Ratchet was a micrometer away from starting his recharge sequence when Nightshade shifted against him.

"Can…can we talk?" Nightshade asked. He nodded in response, letting his head drop onto the cushions beneath them as he held her a little tighter against his chest plates. She fidgeted for a few moments before speaking.

"I just wanted to ask you a question," she said hesitantly. He gave her a gentle brush of encouragement through their bond. He was ready to cuddle with his femme, kiss his femme, and then nap with his femme, in that exact order. Maybe he would sneak in a few kisses, just to make sure he had covered all bases.

"You do know how quickly the girls are maturing," Nightshade said, "and…uhm…you know that they will need a family...preferably, one with a mech and a femme..."

He nodded again and brought his optics online. He glanced down at Nightshade. She was staring at her hands. She was no longer smiling. Instead, she looked quiet and thoughtful. He sensed a tendril of anxiety through the bond. Automatically, he soothed her.

"Yes, I do know that," Ratchet affirmed, shifting so that she would look up at him, "what exactly do you want to know, Night?"

"I just wanted to know what you thought of raising them," Nightshade said in a rush. At his blank stare, she continued. "I don't expect an answer right now, Ratchet, I just wanted you to think about it."

"You want to take the girls in?" he asked. The urge to nap had disappeared completely. He was honestly surprised by her question. He thought that they had already discussed adding to their family - no more sparklings, not for a long time. Or at least until Streak was fully grown.

"I…yes. I would like to," she said, biting down on her lower lip, "they really do need to learn how to interact with a family unit before they mature."

"What about the other bonded pairs?" Ratchet asked, stroking her back absently. He didn't want to tell her no. He didn't want to see the crestfallen look on her face, but he was not ready to add to their family.

"Well…Prowl and Jazz already said no. You know how…fragile their relationship is right now," Nightshade said softly, shivering as she remembered the saboteur's 'death'. Even though it had happened only a scant dozen years before, it was still obvious that Prowl and Jazz had not gotten over their temporary separation.

"Optimus and Elita are too busy to properly provide for a family right now – by the way, you might want to check into Optimus's schedule, Ratchet. Elita's looking sour again," Nightshade said quietly. Ratchet only hummed in response, absently making a note in his planner. "But they are looking at adopting. I've already asked them about the girls, but they won't be able to handle the transition to life as their children.

"Red Alert and Inferno have declined. Inferno isn't interested in a family right now. Red Alert's too busy with his permanent transition out of the medical bay. There's only so much work he can hand over to Barricade," Nightshade continued, "Firestar and Wheeljack are terribly busy with the additions. They're almost three stellar cycles behind on their research for their mining project."

"I know," Ratchet said. His tone prompted her to continue.

"My father is up to his elbow servos in the city architecture. My mother is doing her best to help Elita and Optimus with the representative from the EPA," Nightshade said, absently stroking Ratchet's forearm, "and Chromia needs to rest as much as she can." Nightshade trailed off, her optics dimming at Chromia's state. The sparkling had not been planned, but Ironhide and Chromia had taken to the idea of becoming creators. Chromia's firewall conflicts were becoming more and more common as time went by.

There were a few moments of silence.

"And…Moonracer and Mirage…" She trailed off again. It hurt to think that her best mech friend was unable to bond with his love. Their sparks were compatible, but they could not initiate the bonding protocols properly. It hurt Nightshade each time they came out of their quarters, their faces gaunt.

"What about us, Night?" Ratchet asked quietly, "I have at least two dozen incoming personnel. There's only so much work I can give you and Moonracer."

"I…I hadn't thought about us," she murmured softly, "I figured I could work a few extra hours – "

"You're already working a full schedule," he said disapprovingly, "not to mention your time in the library and your time with Streak." Nightshade gave him a swift look, one that silenced his protests.

"I like working," she said, "a few hours extra couldn't hurt."

"You just had Streak," Ratchet argued, "he is barely one stellar cycle old. With the surgery, you should just now be returning to work. I told you that I would rather you stay at home with Streak."

"I don't want to quit my job, Ratchet," Nightshade protested.

"Night, listen to me," he said gently, "we don't need a second income. I can provide for you both – "

"This isn't about money," Nightshade said coolly, "I've worked far too hard to earn my internship. Giving birth isn't a reason to quit working."

He sighed. He could admit that she was right.

"I understand what you mean, Nightshade," Ratchet said quietly, "but I won't agree with your decision right now." He wanted her at home so he could keep a watchful optic over them and tend to them if they fell ill. Nightshade instinctively drew closer to him to soothe him.

"Anyway," she said quietly, "the girls will be ready for their subadult frames in less than ten stellar cycles. They need to be placed with a family as soon as possible before then…they need a mother and a father, Ratch. I would like for us to be the creators they were denied."

Ratchet hesitated. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of adding to her workload. Working half-joor shifts in the medical bay and the nursery every day had slowed her progress as his intern, but he couldn't ask her to stop either job. He needed help in the medical bay, and the little ones needed to be around as many femmes as possible. The set-up was unorthodox, but he wouldn't protest. The war had changed everything for them.

"I don't know. Wait until after we've finished working with the other interns. Give me some time to think. I never thought of adding to our family after Streak," Ratchet said, stilling his hand. He had his reservations. He wanted for his femme to be happy, but he didn't want her to become overworked, either. Nightshade nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer. It wasn't a 'yes', but at least it wasn't a 'no'. He kissed the top of her head.

"What time are you coming home today?" she asked, patting his chest plates. He grumbled quietly.

"Whenever the slag Prime finishes dealing with Galloway," he sighed. His mood brightened when she gave him a sweet kiss. He was just about to call off the meeting with Galloway when Nightshade gently pulled away.

"We should be going," Nightshade sighed, checking her internal chronometer. It was almost four in the afternoon. The work day may have ended, but there were still things that needed to be dealt with...things like ensuring peaceful negotiations with Galloway and his various government employees. Ratchet helped her off of the berth, and together, they left.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter!

Information regarding all events in this chapter can be found on Wikipedia.


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